


Bluebell on My Mind

by burglebezzlement



Category: Hart of Dixie
Genre: AnnaBeth On Her Own, Bluebell - Freeform, F/M, Fancy Dress Event, Hollywood, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-23 00:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17070185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burglebezzlement/pseuds/burglebezzlement
Summary: After moving to Los Angeles for nursing school, AnnaBeth runs into an old acquaintance: Joel Stevens.





	Bluebell on My Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [useyourtelescope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourtelescope/gifts).



> I hadn't ever thought of AnnaBeth and Joel together before, but your prompts were inspiring. :D Hope you have a great Yuletide!
> 
> Credit for the text message CSS goes to [a great tutorial by La_Temperanza](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722).

AnnaBeth takes a plate of tacos from a vendor and smiles. “Thank you,” she says, but the vendor’s already turned back to his grill.

It’s her first free weekend since arriving in Los Angeles for nursing school, and AnnaBeth’s having trouble getting the rhythm of things. She’s used to having neighbors who care — who maybe care a little too much, fine, but still. Sometimes it’s nice, knowing that there’ll be a celebration in the town square every few weeks. Knowing that everyone knows your name. Knows why you might be feeling a little alone. 

The taco festival was an attempt to remedy that, but the big parking lot full of food trucks isn’t the warm, welcoming community event AnnaBeth was imagining, even if the al pastor taco she’s tucking into is the best taco she’s ever tasted. 

She’s deciding between the deep-fried avocado and slaw and the pescado zaradeado tacos at another truck when someone bumps into her, jostling her lemonade. She spins around to see —

“Joel Stevens?”

It is him, his hair sticking up, his eyes squinting in the bright California sun. AnnaBeth never got to know him much when he was in Bluebell, and then he went and broke Zoe Hart’s heart, which doesn’t endear a man to the heartbroken party’s friends. But seeing him here — it’s nice, AnnaBeth thinks. Knowing someone. Not just being another face in a crowded parking lot.

“AnnaBeth!” Joel looks down at her. She hadn’t realized before, quite how tall he is. “This is a surprise.”

“You’ve got a clipboard!” AnnaBeth exclaims. “You look all official and stuff.”

“I am official,” Joel says, leaning in. “I’m supposed to be judging tacos — my publicist set it up. But I didn’t realize there’d be so many carnitas.”

AnnaBeth tilts her head, and then realizes. Carnitas. Pork. Something Joel, if she recalls correctly, does not eat.

“I’ll have to tell the organizers,” Joel says, “but one of the other judges backed out, and —”

AnnaBeth shakes her head.

“I’ve got this,” she says, taking his clipboard. “Let me be your sous-judge.”

“Thank you,” Joel says, fervently. 

They work their way through the parking lot. Fish tacos, merguez, carnitas — AnnaBeth’s never seen this many food options in one place. Not even at Reverend Mayfair’s annual fall potluck buffet.

“So what brings you to town?” Joel asks, just as AnnaBeth bites into a soft tortilla loaded with carnitas, avocado slices, and a delicious spicy crema. 

AnnaBeth has to chew and swallow before she can answer. “Nursing school.” She starts explaining about her nursing degree at Cal State Fullerton.

“I might go back,” she says. She takes the clipboard from Joel and starts rating the taco. “To Bluebell. But I’ve never really been out of Bluebell before — sure, for college, but that wasn’t really the same. I wanted to try to make it on my own.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Joel says, looking at her, and then he does that thing he does, where he looks adorably embarrassed for a moment. AnnaBeth’s never had that directed at her before. “I mean, not that it’s on me to judge or anything, I didn’t mean —”

“I know what you meant,” AnnaBeth says, smiling at him. 

There’s a moment, where they’re smiling at one another, and AnnaBeth thinks something might happen — the tension between them. The way the corners of Joel’s eyes crinkle. She didn’t spend much time with him when he lived in Bluebell. She knew Zoe had good taste, but —

She takes a deep breath, hands him back the clipboard, and breaks the moment. They’ve got tacos to judge here. 

“Should we go find out who gets to try that chorizo?”

* * *

She’s not surprised, a few days later, when Tom Long texts her.

  
**Tom:** hey AnnaBeth this is Tom  
  
**AnnaBeth:** oh hey! How’s it going?  
  
**Tom:** Tom Long from Bluebell Alabama  
  
**AnnaBeth:** I know. :) How are Wanda and Froda? And the goats?  
  


Tom goes into a long update about everyone in Bluebell, starting with Froda and Wanda and going on to Dr. Breeland, Lemon and Lavon (not that Annabeth doesn't hear plenty from Lemon on that front), and everyone down to Frank, who’s started selling lemon chiffon pies at the Dixie Stop, which means everyone’s in town has had to take sides between Frank’s lemon chiffon pies and the lemon chiffon pie at the Butterstick Bakery. It’s a breath from home, hearing about all of them.

  
**Tom:** but this isn’t why I messaged you!  
  
**Tom:** Wanda said I had to ask you  
  
**AnnaBeth:** Ask me what?  
  
**Tom:** JOEL STEVENS emailed me about you  
  
**Tom:** he wants your phone number  
  
**Tom:** is it okay if I give it to him  
  
**Tom:** (zoe says it’s okay)  
  
**Tom:** (okay with her I mean)  
  
**Tom:** (she and wade say hey)  
  
**Tom:** is it okay?  
  
  


AnnaBeth sits back in her chair and smiles.

* * *

Joel calls a few days later, his voice nervous, even though AnnaBeth thinks he must know she’ll say yes. He offers to take her to the beach, but the traffic from Anaheim is a snarled mess and they end up in a shopping plaza instead, sitting outside at a Jamba Juice, AnnaBeth drinking a Peach Perfection smoothie while Joel tells her all about Hollywood, and asks her all about her clinicals.

She expects him to call. He doesn’t, but he does text her a photo from London, with a sad face emoji and a note explaining that his producer called him over urgently for some reshoots. 

It’s cool, she tells herself. It’s fine. She’s here in LA to work on herself, to learn how to be her own person, outside of the comfortable, smothering, overwhelming, wonderful world of Bluebell, Alabama.

* * *

Joel keeps traveling, more than AnnaBeth thinks he wants to. Sometimes he's in town and sometimes he's in London or Budapest or Calgary. He texts her photos from all over the world, and she texts back stories from nursing class.

She’s just finished her first clinical externship when he texts her a picture of palm trees. 

_Come over for dinner_ , she texts, before she can think better of it.

 _I’m in Miami_ , he texts back, and AnnaBeth’s not sure how to respond to that. 

_I wish I could_ he texts. _They keep taking me out to high end restaurants._ He texts her a photo, showing a thin filet of salmon, a tiny scoop of what looks like quinoa, and five green beans, artfully arranged on a plate. _The more expensive they are, the less food they serve you_

 _Don’t worry,_ Annabeth texts back. _Chez AnnaBeth is a very low-end restaurant. All the meat and potatoes you can eat._

_As soon as I’m back in LA, I’m taking you up on it. I’ve been dreaming about brisket for weeks._

* * *

It feels like they missed their exit. Like they were traveling down the freeway in heavy traffic, and the Relationship Exit was blocked, but the detour hadn’t been set up yet. They’re still on the Friendship 101, and it’s pretty awesome, so AnnaBeth doesn’t say anything. But she still thinks about it.

Joel comes up sometimes, in her weekly calls with Zoe. Zoe, who’s got her life figured out, with the practice, and raising TBD Kinsella, whose real name hasn’t really stuck, and Wade. They mostly talk about AnnaBeth’s nursing studies. AnnaBeth knew Zoe was a talented doctor, but she’s got a new appreciation for her skills now that she’s studying medical procedures herself. Whenever AnnaBeth’s having trouble wrapping her head around a concept, Zoe’s got a way of explaining it so everything makes sense.

“So how’s Joel?” Zoe asks, one afternoon. They’ve been talking about the module AnnaBeth’s been doing on emergency triage in ER settings. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that would come up in a small medical office in Bluebell, Alabama, but of course Zoe’s got the entire protocol memorized and has given AnnaBeth some suggestions for further reading.

“He’s good,” AnnaBeth says. “He’s working on a new project.”

He’s in town right now. They went to the Getty together over the weekend, and came back to her place in Anaheim for pot roast. AnnaBeth’s InstantPot always gets a workout when Joel’s in town.

“He’s such a good guy,” Zoe says, and AnnaBeth can just picture the look on her face. “Our timing just wasn’t right, but maybe yours will be.”

AnnaBeth laughs nervously. “If I don’t get through this module, it won’t matter. They’ll kick me out and I’ll be on the next plane home to Bluebell.”

“You’ll do great,” Zoe says, warmly. “You’re super-smart, AnnaBeth.”

* * *

A few weeks later, Joel comes out to Anaheim to pick AnnaBeth up for a trip to the Griffith Observatory.

She’s usually all put together when he arrives, but not today. She answers the door in her yoga pants, hair piled on top of her head, messy and unwashed.

Joel notices, instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“I just got my externship feedback,” AnnaBeth says, and she can feel tears pricking at her eyes. “One of the patients didn’t like me.”

Joel puts an arm on her shoulder and walks her to her couch. “Hey,” he says. “Let’s sit down. Tell me about it.”

The story comes flooding out. This was the externship AnnaBeth was looking forward to the most — women’s health. She’s got a vague, half-defined idea at the back of her mind, of going back to Bluebell one day to work with Zoe and Brick. Maybe work part time, and turn the Masters of Science in Nursing she’s getting her into a Nurse Practitioner qualification. Bluebell’s growing, and the practice will need to grow, too.

But it’s not going to work if the patients hate her. 

“— and she told the supervisor I was unsympathetic to her concerns,” AnnaBeth says, to Joel, who’s listening intently. 

“Is this your first patient complaint?” Joel asks.

“Yes.” AnnaBeth brushes her fingers over the corners of her eyes, trying to make it look like it’s just that they’re sore, not that she’s brushing away tears.

“Well, that seems pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“Pretty good?” AnnaBeth’s surprised.

“I bet if you asked the other students, they’ve already gotten more complaints than you have,” Joel says, smiling at her. “Zoe gets complaints too. And do you really think everyone loves Brick Breeland?”

“He got Man of the Year last year,” AnnaBeth says, but she’s smiling a little now. 

“Tom says that MOTY was only because he bribed the Owls with a fishing trip.” Joel puts an arm around her, and she lets herself lean back against his chest. “Seriously, AnnaBeth, I’m guessing everyone gets complaints. The only surprising thing here is that it’s taken this long for you.” 

“You’re right.” AnnaBeth scrubs at her face. “And you came all this way to take me to the Observatory, and I’m a mess. Let me get dressed. I’m sorry.”

Joel keeps his arm around her. “You’re fine,” he says. “The Observatory was just an excuse to spend some time together.”

“Really?” AnnaBeth asks. There’s a funny feeling in her stomach. 

“Really.” Joel hugs her a bit closer for a moment, and then lets go. “How about we stay in and watch a movie? Your choice.”

* * *

Joel’s right about the other students in AnnaBeth’s courses — all of them have had more complaints than she has by this point. “It’s the patients,” her friend Rosa tells her. “You could be sweet as pie, and they’ll complain you’re too nice.”

It makes AnnaBeth feel better when she gets a good final evaluation on the externship, too. It might have had its moments, but she enjoyed helping to provide care for other women. She still remembers how kind Zoe was to her, back when she had no reason to be. She wants to be able to pay that kindness forward to other patients.

* * *

AnnaBeth gets out of class one day to find her phone’s been blowing up with texts. She expects it to be big Bluebell news. And it is, in a way — Joel might have been gone for a while, but one of Bluebell’s Own being nominated for an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay is a big deal, even if he’s only Bluebell’s Own thanks to a six-month stay.

She’s started going through her texts and responding when someone calls. Joel Stevens.

“Congratulations, Oscar Nominee!” AnnaBeth says, when she picks up. 

“You already heard!” Joel sounds a little disappointed, like he wanted to tell her himself. 

“Of course I heard. You think Bluebell sleeps on news this big?”

“Will you be my date?” Joel asks, stumbling over the words like he can't say them fast enough. “To the Oscars.”

“Of course I will,” she says, warmly. 

“Thank you,” Joel says, sounding relieved. “It’s going to be — the studio’s arranging it all. I’ll have them send you all the details.”

And then he’s gone. AnnaBeth sinks down onto a bench and wonders. Date as in — he needs someone on his arm? Date, as in he wants something more, like she she’s starting to realize she does?

It doesn’t matter, she tells herself. Joel’s just a friend. She’s going to be supportive, because he wants her there. That’s the end of it, and if she sometimes daydreams about the two of them moving back to Bluebell — there’s nothing wrong with a daydream, as long as you build your plans in the real world.

* * *

Joel’s in Budapest again for reshoots in the weeks leading up to the Oscars, so AnnaBeth’s coordinating times and everything with one of the people from his production company. There’s a lot of emails where she gets called “the girlfriend.” She’s not sure how she feels about that. She wonders if that’s what Joel told them.

The dress thing — the production company doesn’t help with that for “girlfriends,” but AnnaBeth’s friend Rosa has a cousin who’s got a small dress shop and big ambitions.

When AnnaBeth shows up, he clucks his tongue and wanders around, collecting dresses from the racks and handing them over to her. 

She takes them into the spacious dressing room to try on, but somehow, none of them feel right. Baby pink tulle over midnight blue satin might be on-trend, but it looks out of place on AnnaBeth, and the moss-green taffeta doesn’t hit her curves.

She’s got a purple spangled gown with a cupcake skirt on when she gives in and takes a photo to text Lemon.

  
**Lemon:** What in the name of Lucille Lavinius Jeremiah Jones is that????  
  
**AnnaBeth:** it’s a dress for the Oscars  
  
**Lemon:** No, it most certainly is not  
  
**Lemon:** Put me on FaceTime  
  
**AnnaBeth:** it’s fine. My friend Rosa has a cousin who has a dress shop, and he’s loaning me something. I’m in nursing school, Lemon, I can’t be picky here   
  
**Lemon:** You most certainly can  
  
**Lemon:** You are not representing the good people of Bluebell in that  
  
**Lemon:** And you most certainly are not letting Joel Stevens see you looking like a sparkly eggplant  
  
**Lemon:** AnnaBeth Nass, you put me on FaceTime right now!   
  


AnnaBeth sighs and picks up Lemon’s call. “It’s not that bad,” she says. Which might be true. The other two dresses looked worse.

“Take me out into the salon area,” Lemon instructs. “I need to see what we’re working with here.”

“He’s doing me a favor,” AnnaBeth protests. “I can’t —”

“You’re wearing his dress on the arm of an Oscar nominee,” Lemon says. “You are the one doing him a favor. But that favor only works if the dress you wear looks as gorgeous as you do. Now. Show me the dresses, AnnaBeth, or I will fly out there.”

AnnaBeth narrows her eyes. “You can’t fly when you’re 38 weeks pregnant with twins. I’m a nursing student. You can’t threaten me with that, I know better.”

“I’ll send Cricket,” Lemon threatens, and that’s enough to get AnnaBeth moving. 

Lemon looks at the dresses while Rosa’s cousin looks on, seemingly bemused. Maybe he’s realized the sparkly eggplant isn’t the way to go.

After trying on what feels like every dress in the shop, Lemon makes AnnaBeth go back into the design area, where there’s a bias-cut velvet gown in a deep, rich crimson.

“Try that one on,” Lemon says, in her imperious voice.

The dress looks pretty on the hanger. On AnnaBeth, it’s gorgeous. The velvet hugs AnnaBeth’s curves, and the deep V neckline reveals just the right amount of cleavage. 

“I’m sending you one of Grandma Bettie’s necklaces to wear with it,” Lemon says. AnnaBeth starts to protest, but Lemon cuts her off. “Don’t you even think about arguing. It’s time that woman’s jewelry collection does more good in the world than she can.”

The FedEx package arrives a few days later, sent to AnnaBeth care of the school’s offices thanks to an exception Lemon has bullied the school’s administrative staff into granting, because Lemon says she’s heard about package thieves on the news. 

AnnaBeth’s classmates insist on her opening it in class. The necklace is a twisted rope of diamonds and pearls, dropping down to a pendant that will hit just above the dress’s neckline. There are matching earrings, too, and Lemon’s helpfully printed out a set of instructions for how she thinks AnnaBeth should fix her hair.

“It’s like a fairy tale,” Rosa says, her usual hard edge unexpectedly softening.

AnnaBeth wonders. Maybe it is a fairy tale. But she’s not sure if she wants to be a princess in a giant Malibu castle of a house.

* * *

AnnaBeth sends Lemon and Zoe a selfie of herself, the afternoon of the Oscars, after she’s done getting ready. She gives in and follows Lemon’s hair tutorial, and it works perfectly. Of course it does.

 _So hot,_ Zoe texts. _Joel’s not going to know what hit him!_

 _You look lovely. The dress is adequate,_ Lemon texts. _We’ll do better next time._

Next time. AnnaBeth feels a swoop in her stomach at that thought, but there’s no time for nerves. The limo is pulling up outside.

From the production staff’s emails, AnnaBeth knows that “the girlfriend” gets picked up before Oscar Nominee Joel Stevens. 

He’s got a tuxedo on, and AnnaBeth almost doesn’t recognize him. Joel Stevens, suave and mature, walking out of the lobby of his building like a Hollywood mogul. And then he stops, and AnnaBeth can see the old Joel in his face. The way he stands on the sidewalk, like he can’t believe the limo is for him.

She lets herself out before the driver has a chance to come around and open the door for her.

“AnnaBeth!” Joel’s entire face lights up as he looks at her. “You look — I have no words.”

“An Oscar nominee for Best Original Screenplay has no words?” AnnaBeth laughs. “I must have done well.”

“You look incredible,” he says, helping her back into the limo.

“And you look very handsome.”

The driver pulls away from the curb, and they’re back in traffic, stuck going a few miles an hour on their way to the event. 

The entire thing is unreal. AnnaBeth does her best, posing next to Joel. She remembers to give them Rosa’s cousin’s name as her designer, and hopes that at least a few of them will print it. He did an amazing job on the dress. He deserves it.

The Oscars themselves are a strange mix. AnnaBeth expects the Hollywood glitz and glamor, and there is some — seeing people she’s seen in the movies all her life suddenly around her, talking to one another, is a thrill. But there’s also a lot of press. A lot of complications. Joel’s production team, bringing him around to introduce to studio people she’s never heard of. By the way the production team acts around them, she can tell they’re more important than most of the movie stars. 

AnnaBeth knows how to play the role of supportive girlfriend. Nod, smile, laugh. Build Joel up when he makes a self-deprecating remark.

“I’m not going to win,” Joel says, as they’re going into the theater.

“That’s the spirit.” AnnaBeth pats him on the shoulder. “Come on, now. The sooner we get in there, the sooner we get to your first Oscar Loser’s party. I hear they’re way better than the party for the winners.”

Joel laughs, and lets her lead him into the theater.

* * *

Joel does lose. He looks almost relieved when they announce another screenwriter’s name, and AnnaBeth joins him in clapping for the winner.

The rest of the night is a blur. Their limo takes them to party after party, where more production company people descend to introduce Joel to more people AnnaBeth’s never heard of. She sees other women changing into simpler dresses, putting on lower heels, and wishes she had thought of that. Her hair’s still perfect, thanks to Lemon’s instructions, but the necklace is heavy around her neck.

Finally, they’re leaving the last party. Joel takes her hand as she gets into the limo, and they slump down beside one another, AnnaBeth’s head on his shoulder.

“What did you think?” he asks. He’s got his hand on hers, on top of her knee, stroking his thumb across the skin of her wrist.

“It’s a whirlwind,” AnnaBeth says.

Joel takes a deep breath. “Do you think — do you think you’d want this? Full-time, I mean. Hollywood.” He pauses. “Me.”

AnnaBeth’s heart’s beating wildly. “Shouldn’t you be dating some young starlet?”

“I like you,” Joel says, simply. “I’ve always liked you, but I always thought —”

AnnaBeth bites her lip. She’s imagined this conversation before, but she never thought they’d be having it in a limo, on their way home from the Oscars.

“I like you too,” she says. “I like you a lot. But the Hollywood thing — it’s not for me.”

She sighs, but she doesn’t take her head off Joel’s shoulder. “I’m a simple girl. I wanted to get out and see the world, but I think now I’m ready to go home. I applied for an Alabama nurse practitioner program, and Zoe and Brick have agreed to take me back on at the clinic.”

Joel shifts. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I didn’t know how,” AnnaBeth admits. And she didn’t know he thought about her like that. Hoped, maybe, but she didn’t think she had the right.

And now they’re here, back where he and Zoe broke down, looking at the Hollywood sign. Looking at his new life, pulling him away.

* * *

AnnaBeth and Joel show up in several slide-shows of the Oscars’ best dressed. Everyone in Bluebell sends her copies, and she thinks her heart might break, looking at the two of them together. 

She does look amazing. Like she belongs on his arm. But she knows that she wants something more. She wants her own career. Her time in LA has made her realize that the close-knit community in Bluebell is what she wants for her future.

Maybe it was always going to end like this, AnnaBeth thinks, as she works her way through a pint of ice cream. Lemon has discovered that while PostMates might not deliver in Bluebell and probably never will, it’s a great way to drop off ice cream to a friend in Los Angeles who’s having an emotional breakdown. It’s not the same as having Lemon there with her, but it’s still nice, knowing Lemon cares.

* * *

AnnaBeth has a break from school right before Lemon’s twins are due, and flies back to Bluebell to surprise her at the baby shower Zoe and Cricket are throwing. The last laugh’s on them, though, when Lemon unexpectedly goes into labor at the party. AnnaBeth gets to help deliver her first babies as Zoe’s assistant. 

The rest of the visit is arranging things to come back. She already sold her house and the houseboat, which means she doesn’t know, yet, where she’ll be moving when she comes back. Finding a place is surprisingly hard. Zoe and Wade have finally moved into their own place, but Lavon’s already given Zoe’s old carriage house and Wade’s old place to other Bluebellians moving home from out of town.

AnnaBeth’s not going to let it get her down. She’ll be in Mobile for classes a few days a week anyway, and maybe she can find a place to crash. Or maybe the tenant upstairs at the clinic will decide to move out.

One afternoon, after visiting Cricket and Jaysene in their place next to the new fire station, AnnaBeth heads down to the Butterstick to drown her frustration in cream horns. She’s on a plane back to LA tomorrow, and she still hasn’t found anything.

She steps into the bakery, and she can tell something’s going on. It’s her Bluebell senses, activating after a long time away. The way people stop talking and then furiously whisper when she steps in —

Something’s happening. AnnaBeth’s just not sure what.

She’s ordered her cream horn and coffee when she sees him. Joel Stevens, standing there, a sheepish expression on his face.

“Hey, AnnaBeth.”

AnnaBeth’s heart jumps in her chest. “Joel?”

“In the flesh.” He looks around at all of the Bluebellians, who are ostentatiously minding their own business and obviously listening to every word. “Do you want to go somewhere to talk?”

“I’d love to,” AnnaBeth says. She gets her coffee and cream horn to go, and lets Joel escort her into the town square. The bench in the gazebo is free. 

“What are you doing here?” AnnaBeth asks, as they sit town.

“I always said I’d come back to Bluebell one day,” he says. “And then you told me you were leaving Los Angeles, and I realized that you were the main reason I was staying.”

AnnaBeth can’t think. “But in the limo —”

“It took me a few days,” Joel says. “Sometimes I’m slow on the uptake. I hope that’s not a dealbreaker for you.”

AnnaBeth can feel it: the moment where she lets herself start to hope. 

His expression gets serious again. “I’ve spent so much time traveling, but — I can write anywhere. I’ve written here. I can write here again. I’ll still write screenplays, but the travel — I want a different kind of life now.” He takes her hand. “AnnaBeth — I want that life to be with you.”

“Oh, Joel.” 

AnnaBeth leans in to kiss him, butterflies in her stomach. He’s uncertain at first, but then takes control of the kiss, lips against hers, his hand on the small of her back.

“So your answer is yes?” Joel asks, when they part.

“I’m not sure what the question was!” AnnaBeth says, laughing, and then nods. “But it’s yes.”

“We might have to go back to Hollywood sometimes,” Joel says. “You never know. I might get nominated for another Oscar. But no more long trips.”

“I can be your princess for a night,” AnnaBeth says. “As long as we come home to Bluebell in the end.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Tom Long, taking a photo of them and then giving them an enthusiastic thumbs up. The entire town’s going to know in a matter of minutes.

AnnaBeth laughs. “I think the secret’s out,” she says.

Joel puts his arm around her and pulls her close. “Let them talk.”


End file.
